


I Will Never Dream of Your Love Until You Take Me There

by joeyjwitter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, why are summaries so hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 19:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6483988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joeyjwitter/pseuds/joeyjwitter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You gave me a chance,” her tone is quiet, soft, like she’s talking to herself, “A stranger. You believed in me.”</p><p>Her hand is still in his and Bellamy catches himself drawing little shapes against her skin with his thumb. If he could, he’d pause this moment for good amount of time. </p><p>“Still do,” he tells her and her eyes light up. Her mouth curls into another smile and he’s pretty sure that’s his favorite thing about her.</p><p>Or: Bellamy Blake, being the good samaritan that he is, let's Clarke, a homeless woman take shelter in his home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Never Dream of Your Love Until You Take Me There

**Author's Note:**

> ""I'm homeless and you said i could stay one night because there was a storm but now you're offering me a more permanent stay,""AU’
> 
> I did this in Bellamy’s POV even though Clarke’s the homeless person because well I don’t know?? It just happened? Thank you for the prompt! Also kind of turned out to be a MONSTER fic so I hope you enjoy!

“Fucking hell,” Bellamy grumbles to himself as he removes his suit jacket to hold over his head as the downpour begins.

With this time of day there was no cabs to take back to his apartment so instead he’s practically sprinting home from work. He was hoping the rain wouldn’t start until after he’s inside but _of_ _course_ that didn’t happen.

He stops short when he notices a blonde woman – more like _girl_ – huddled close to the wall, the flap of the farmer’s market sign was the only thing shielding her from the rain. Based on her disheveled appearance and the fact that he’s sure he’s seen her around on the streets before, he realizes that she’s homeless and he suddenly feels guilty for all his previous complaints he had moments before. At least _he_ had a home to get to. Rain or no rain.

He can’t help but feel his older brother instincts kick in especially since this girl looked so young. About twenty or twenty one – his sister’s age. Bellamy slowly approaches her, his hand that’s holding his jacket lowers to his side. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, what he’s going to do, but before he can actually settle on something she’s spinning towards him with her jaw locked and fire in her cobalt eyes. He stills his movement.

“Don’t come any closer,” she warns and he notices her voice is slightly raspy and wonders if that’s normal or if it was because of a cold, “I’ll hurt you.”

He can’t imagine this five foot five woman actually _hurting_ him but he obeys. Holding his hands up in surrender. He doesn’t doubt that she has mace or some sort of defense to protect her.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” he begins, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

If possible, her stare hardens, “You don’t scare me.”

The rustling of the wind picks up, blowing the flaps backwards and springing droplets of water onto the both of them. He watches as she tries to stifle the shiver that overtakes her small body. Her ratty looking sweater doing little to protect her from the cold.

“You want my jacket?” he yells over the roar of the thunder that was beginning.

Her eyes advert from him to his jacket before they fall back onto him again, “Excuse me?”

“My jacket,” he repeats even though he’s pretty sure she only responded in that way because of the absurdity of the offer, “It’s supposed to get pretty bad.”

The girl looks up at the sky as if she wasn’t aware of the storm that was currently taking place, “I’ll probably end up selling it so you wouldn’t ever get it back again.”

Bellamy shrugs, forgetting about the fact that he spent his first three paychecks at his previous job to pay for the damn jacket, “Do what you want with it _after_ the storm.”

“How much help can that jacket even be?”

 _This was true_ , he thought to himself before he threw the material under his arm, he pauses for a second before he says, “You’re right. You can come to my apartment.”

Now her eyes widen before a look of disgust crosses her features, “Listen perv I —,”

“Just for tonight,” he cuts her off, “Or the second the storm stops.”

She looks completely baffled when she asks, “Why?”

“Because I don’t think I could forgive myself come tomorrow morning when I turn on the news to find out a young blonde woman died out on the streets while a fucking hurricane was taking place,” he lowers his voice to mock a news reporter, “If only there was some caring pedestrian around to help her out and save her life.”

The girl rolls her eyes at his theatrics. And yeah maybe it wasn’t exactly a _hurricane_ but he wasn’t lying before, it was supposed to be one of the worst storms of the year. He was pretty sure there was a warning for flash floods in the neighborhood.

“You could be a serial killer,” she points out.

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, “Yeah, that’s always a possibility.”

She watches him for a second or two before she spoke again, “I could steal all of your stuff and then sell it with the jacket.”

Bellamy can’t help but smirk at that, at least she had a sense of humor, “My couch is probably the most valuable thing I own and I’m pretty sure I’d catch you trying to sneak that out.”

There’s a glint of amusement in her eyes before she purses her lips, debating, and then, “Lead the way.”

\---

They’re both drenched when they step into his apartment, her hair dripping onto the wood floor and she doesn’t look the least bit apologetic. Instead she scopes out the room. Her eyes darting from the TV to the couch to the small kitchen area he has. Bellamy closes the door behind him slowly, keeping his eye on the inspecting blonde who hasn’t moved or spoke in a while.

“I’ll get you some blankets,” he says and she barley even looks at him. He heads to the closet and removes his extra comforter he had stored in there.

When he returns to the living room, she has a picture frame in her hand, staring down at a picture of him and Octavia from after her high school graduation. They’re both decked out in formal ware.

“She’s pretty,” she notes out loud, glancing over her shoulder at him, “Does she know that you bring random homeless women home?”

Bellamy narrows his eyes, “This would be my first time doing so,” he tells her as she places the frame back down, “I don’t think she’d mind.”

She quirks her eyebrow, disbelieving, “Really?”

“She’s my little sister,” he says with a pointed look, “I think she’d be the first to kill me if I didn’t offer my apartment.”

“Oh, and who would be the second?”

Bellamy senses her playfulness and does his best to suppress his smile but fails, “Probably my friend Raven. Then Monty. I have a lot of kind friends.”

She ducks her head and he assumes it’s because she’s also smiling. When she lifts her gaze, she holds out her arms to the side, water drips from the fabric, “Do you mind if I borrow something of yours?”

“ _Oh_. Yeah, of course,” he says, wondering why he didn’t think of giving her something himself. He holds up his pointer finger before he backs away to his bedroom. He ruffles through his drawers before he finds his old college t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.

The gust of wind is getting louder and he can barely see outside his window when he leaves his room. She has her hair up into a bun now and she’s standing by the edge of the couch looking so out of place. When he catches her eye, he hands over the clothes and she takes them with a murmured thanks.

“The bathrooms the first door on the left,” he informs her, “If you want, you can take a shower and give me the clothes you’re wearing now to put in the dryer.”

She bobs her head once before disappearing into the bathroom. Bellamy sighs as he runs his hand through his sopping wet hair.

He realizes then that he doesn’t even know her name. Didn’t even think to ask her about it.

He’s in the kitchen when she emerges, steam rolling out behind her. She looks refreshed when she moves towards him. His sweatpants rolled up a couple times at the ankle and his shirt dwarfing her petite frame.

“I left my clothes in the bathroom sink,” she says. She sounds timid and awkward. He doesn’t know what happened to the tough girl exterior she had minutes ago.

“What’s your name?” he blurts out. He meant to nod, say he’d get to drying them in a minute, offer her the tea he just made but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

She looks at him for a moment like she doesn’t want to tell him, like she’d rather dart out of the apartment and reign the storm instead, before she answers, “It’s Clarke.”

“Bellamy,” he returns before grabbing one of the mugs and extending it towards her, “I don’t know if you like tea or not but...”

Clarke bites the inside of her cheek before taking the glass from his hand. She’s still wary, he notes though he doesn’t blame her. _He could be a serial killer, right?_

“I’ll uh get your clothes and you can watch TV or something,” he figured it was a bit too early to suggest just going to sleep.

She watches him go, the rim of the mug under her lips as she blows into the liquid to make it cooler. It doesn’t register that he’s actually staring at her – or more specifically her lips – until his back rams into the side of the wall. He does his best to brush off the embarrassment when she raises an eyebrow at him and instead quickly pivots away to the bathroom.

Clarke is pressed into the arm of the sofa after he’s done tossing her clothes into the dryer, the screen displaying the weather outside where an unlucky reporter stood in the middle of it (with a large yellow raincoat) talking about the current temperature.

“Poor bastard,” she mutters into her cup when he tumbles backwards from the gust of wind.

Bellamy grimaces slightly for the guy before he says, “Aren’t you glad I showed up when I did?”

He meant for it to be a joke but by the curious gaze she was casting him over the back of the couch he felt the need to take it back but she was speaking before he could.

“You have a real hero complex, don’t you?”

He’s slightly taken aback by the question – well more like statement. Though he’s heard it before (mostly from his sister) he’d never expect it to come from a stranger.

“You’re _that_ kind of guy,” she continues and he opens his mouth to ask her to elaborate on what ‘that kind of guy means’ but she’s already answering his thought, “The one that needs to help somebody. The one people come to when they need advice. You’re the big brother but for _everyone_.”

Bellamy’s not exactly sure what to feel. What to _say_ to that. So he remains silent and in return she raises her brows as if to challenge him to disagree.

He doesn’t because she’s right.

“Is that such a bad thing?” he finally questions, leaning against the wall behind the sofa.

Clarke presses her lips together, thinking, “Not necessarily.”

He keeps her stare before circling the couch and dropping down on the other side of it. She’s watching his every move as he does so.

“Do you have someone like that?” his voice is soft, not wanting to step too far into a territory he didn’t belong.

Clarke’s eyes drift down to her lap, her thumb circling the rim of the mug, “I did.”

Bellamy picks up on her past tense right away and decides not to say anything more. He’s surprised though when seconds tick by in silence and she decides to speak again.

“I had a best friend – Wells – he uh, he was very protective of me,” her voice is quiet and weak, like she’s hasn’t said these words before and she doesn’t know why she’s saying them now, “Especially after my father passed when I was fifteen.”

He internally winces but doesn’t say anything. He can’t look away from her even though her gaze is still on the tea.

“Then he died two years ago,” she lets out a bitter laugh, “Kind of the start of it all.”

Bellamy has to fight the urge to reach out for her, to comfort her in some way, he didn’t want to be weird but she looked so damn broken. There were tears brimming her eyes and he could see her fighting them off. Probably not a fan of crying in front of a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” he finally murmurs, “I guess I’m like this because I lost a parent at a young age too – my mom – and then it just became me and my sister.”

Bellamy’s not exactly sure what was up with his fate. Finding a homeless women in the middle of a storm, bringing her back to his apartment, and then exchanging sob stories with her was definitely not how he thought he’d be spending his Thursday night.

“I’m sorry too,” she raises her head to catch his eye, “But I mean it could be worst, right?”

He quirks a brow at her, “How?”

She’s biting back a smile, he can tell, when she says, “You could be homeless.”

He lets out a long exhale, a bit of humor laced in the sound, “Nice.”

Clarke openly grins then before taking a long sip of her drink, “I try.”

Bellamy grabs the remote when a commercial starts to play and instead switches to a channel that’s playing some Adam Sandler movie. He lays back against the cushion, one arm resting against the back of the couch as Clarke shifts her legs under her body. They kept quiet through the film, laughing or shaking their heads only at the appropriate times. He was frankly surprised at how _normal_ this felt.

“Not bad,” he comments as the credit began to roll, finger over the channel button to choose something else to watch when he hears the snoring.

His head snaps to the side to see Clarke’s head lolled back with her mouth slightly agape and completely passed out. The sight was somewhat endearing. Bellamy turns off the television set before getting up and grabbing another blanket to drape over her form. He removes the mug that was still curled in her hand and hopes she doesn’t wake with a stiff neck. He wasn’t about to _move_ her into a more comfortable position. He didn’t want to get a black eye if he ended up waking her in the process.

On the way to his room, he looks back at her once more before closing the light. He blamed the fact that he hadn’t had any new company in a long time for the reasoning behind him not wanting the storm to pass just yet.

\---

Bellamy practically falls out of his bed when he hears a crashing sound coming from his living room. He’s up on his feet in record time before he registers that he wasn’t alone in his apartment like usual. Still a bit cautious, he slowly opens his door and pads down the hallway with quiet ease until he notices his lamp on the floor and a flushed blonde looking guiltily down at it.

“What happened?”

Clarke whips her head up, her bottom lip hooked between her teeth, “I promise I wasn’t trying to steal it,” she rushes out, “I accidently kicked it in my sleep.”

Bellamy couldn’t help but smile at her words before he drew closer, “I didn’t think you were stealing,” he told her honestly as he crouches down to pick up the shards of glass that were dusting his hardwood floor, “And I’m not surprised you’re even tough when you’re sleeping.”

When he peers up to give her a teasing grin, she’s watching him with something like awe. Her eyebrows are pulled in thoughtfully and her lips are parted.

“You okay?” he can’t help but ask and she blinks away her daze before she nods.

“Yeah,” she answers, kneeling down next to him to grab the pieces he missed, “You know, I never thanked you.”

Bellamy stills at her words, he doesn’t know if she notices because she keeps cleaning, “It’s no big deal.”

Clarke’s lips purse, “Whatever you say,” she stands with the shards in her palm now, “Big brother.”

She winks over her shoulder and he’s not sure if he detests or loves those words coming from her.

When she can’t fall back asleep, with the wind howling too loudly outdoors, he joins her in the kitchen where he makes them more tea. He sees the way she eyes the liquor cabinet and he _almost_ caves.

She makes herself comfortable sitting on his counter instead of one of his stools and he opts to stand, slanting against the stove that’s opposite her.

 “You can ask,” she says, “I think you’ve earned that.”

Bellamy sinks his teeth down into his lower lip, playing dumb, “Ask what?”

Clarke gives him a look that reads: _you know what_.

With a soft exhale he inquires, “How did you end up homeless?”

Her expression doesn’t change with the question, giving nothing away, “I’m not really homeless,” she begins and Bellamy’s eyes widen at the new information, “Not _exactly_ anyways. I mean I technically have a home if I wanted one,” she sucks in a breath as her gaze averts to the floor, “To make a long story short I wanted to pursue art as a career where my mother wanted me to continue with being a pre-med major. So I applied to all the art schools I was aware of without her consent and she was…pissed. She said something about how artists are just destined to ‘live on the streets and scrape up any money they can find,’” she shakes her head with a sigh, “I guess I showed her.”

Bellamy’s chin comes to rest on his chest, words failing him at the moment. He couldn’t believe this girl. So much pride and determination that she’d actually take the streets over a sheltered home. And he thought his love for history was extreme.

“I – uh…wow.”

Clarke’s eyes finds his and she shrugs, “I take art classes when I can but I have no money for the actual college,” she says, “It’s only been a month since our blow up and I was just about ready to crack with the storm and all…until you know…you found me.”

 _You found me_. For some odd reason those words pull at something inside him that he can’t distinguish. He swallows hard, pushing off the stove to stand by her feet.

“She’s not worried about you?” his voice is almost a whisper. Scared with his tone being just an octave higher, she’d shut down.

“Well the last time I spoke to her, I told her I was staying with a friend.”

“Why would you tell her that?”

She sighs, defeated, “Because I didn’t want her to know that she was right,” she drops her elbows down to her thighs and places her face into her hands, “But she is. She’s completely right.”

He watches her shoulders tremble slightly before he hesitantly places a hand onto the middle of her back, “It’s okay,” he soothes, “We all make mistakes.”

She pulls her hands away from her face and turns to him, “I don’t know what to do.”

He recalls her previous comment about how he was the big brother for everyone. The one who needs to protect. The one people come to for _advice_.

“You have to tell her,” is what his mind comes up with first, “Swallow your pride and tell her,” when he catches her surprised face, he continues, “You’re too young to be living out on the streets, Clarke. I mean there’s no age where it’s _good_ but you have so much life to live. You can’t do this to yourself.”

“But maybe this is how it’s supposed to be,” she says quietly, “Maybe this is the price I have to pay to be an artist. It’s important to me.”

“You don’t have to give it up.”

She sniffs, her finger trailing under eyes to catch a tear, “I don’t think it’s possible to have the best of both worlds here.”

“Well I do,” she leans into his touch with his positive dispute, “It’s not going to be easy but it’s possible.”

Clarke sulks a bit, “So what? I go to school studying pre-med until I make enough money to go to the college I want to?”

Bellamy thinks for a second, debating with himself before he speaks, “You could stay here.”

She immediately straightens, head twisting to meet his eyes. She seems to be evaluating him and it’s making him want to squirm so he removes his hand from her back.

“What did you say?”

He almost gulps, “I said – um – you could stay here?”

Clarke tilts to her side, her lips slightly opened, “You want me to stay here?”

 _That’s an odd way to put it_ , he thinks, he doesn’t really know her to want something like that. “I _want_ you to be able have your chance. You could work, go to the community college I went to – the one my sister’s at right now. Then apply for scholarships and get a place of your own.”

She’s still staring at him, face impassive, “You make it sound so easy.”

“I’m giving you suggestions if you don’t want to go back to your mother.”

“I can’t do that,” she finally says after a moment of two of silence, “I can’t _live_ with you.”

He sighs, “Look I know we’re still practically strangers but —,”

“I’m not a charity case,” she cuts him off, her voice filled with malice, “This was a one time thing because of the storm. That’s it.”

“I’m not trying to treat you like one. Believe me I know how it feels,” something in his voice must have showed how truthful he was being because she swallows back a reply, “I’m just trying to give you a place to crash till you get everything sorted out. Kind of like a second shot at whatever you want to do. How many opportunities are there for that?”

Her eyes cast downwards, contemplating, “I’ll need to think about it.”

He nods, to himself mostly since she’s no longer looking at him, “Okay.”

With that they bid each other a semi awkward goodnight and Clarke returns to his couch and Bellamy retreats back to his bedroom only after he sees her shut her eyes.

\---

The next morning, you could hardly even remember that there was a storm harassing the citizens in the town the previous day with how blue the skies currently were. The sun bright and the air warm. When Bellamy awakes to the irksome blaring of his alarm clock, he’s quick to his feet to check on his possible new house guest. To his surprise though, she’s no longer on the couch. The blankets he had given her are now folded and resting on the arm of the sofa. There’s a sinking feeling inside his chest when he figures she left and was now somewhere gallivanting the streets again.

Until he hears her clear her throat behind him. He spins on the spot to see her leaning against the wall, a small smile on her face, and a pan in her hand.

“I was trying to make breakfast,” she tells him, “But you literally have nothing. _Nothing_. And this is coming from a homeless person.”

He wonders idly how many jokes she makes concerning her wellbeing.

“I have stuff,” he grumbles, “You sound like my sister.”

Bellamy walks into the kitchen, Clarke practically trailing on his heels.

“I’m sure your sister is a fan of pancakes and waffles,” she says, “Like all human beings.”

“Pancakes and waffles aren’t very healthy.”

She scoffs at that as he opens the fridge door to grab one of his protein shakes. When Clarke notices it, she scrunches up her nose.

“You’re a health freak.”

It’s a statement and he rolls his eyes, uncapping the drink, “It’s not freakish. Excuse me for trying to extend my life.”

He doesn’t know why their bickering comes so normally as if they’ve known each other for years. He doesn’t let his mind question it too much though.

“Oh yeah because you’re really going to end up having a heart attack if you eat a pancake.”

Bellamy stares at her, “That’s what happened to my father.”

Clarke’s eyes widen and she almost drops the pan in her hand, “Oh my God – I’m so sorry. I—,”

He snorts, “I’m just kidding. Never knew my father.”

“You asshole!” she yells, “Don’t say things like that!”

He’s grinning, despite his efforts not to, “I just wanted to stop the speech I’ve heard many times before,” he’s walking back out to his living room when he says, “I’ll pick up pancake mix on the way home if you want.”

She stops in her tracks, “I haven’t made my decision yet.”

“That’s fine,” he shrugs, “Will you be here when I get back?”

Clarke seems to be debating her answer before she nods. Slow and unsure. He just gives her an encouraging smile before jogging to his room to get dressed. When he remerges from his bedroom, she’s seated on the kitchen stool. Eating an apple with a look of distaste on her face. He can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll probably be back by six,” he tells her because he feels like it’s important. He’s not sure what she’ll be doing for those hours he’s gone but he doesn’t let himself worry about it. She’s a grown woman – he’s not her keeper. Just a Good Samaritan that’s all.

She looks up at him, “How am I supposed to repay you?”

“Repay me?”

“If I decide to stay,” she continues, “I can’t do _nothing_.”

Bellamy shrugs on his jacket, “Draw me a picture,” he says and then he’s out the door.

\---

He’s not sure what he was expecting when he tells Octavia his situation but he certainly wasn’t thinking she’d show up to his _office_ in the middle the day after hanging up the phone rather abruptly.

“You’re serious,” is all she says when she finds him.

“I’m serious,” he confirms and because he doesn’t know what else to say, he adds, “You can come meet her.”

He makes a pit stop at the market to grab pancake mix and a few other treats, causing his sister to look at him as if he’s gone nuts but it’s a nice distraction from the endless questions he was receiving beforehand about Clarke. When they make it his door, he suddenly feels slightly guilty about brining Octavia home with him without informing Clarke. She didn’t seem like the type to enjoy surprise visits from strangers but it wasn’t like his sister was about to leave.

So instead he turns the key and shouts that he’s back.

She’s still in his sweatpants but instead found a new shirt of his to wear when she makes her way towards the door. Her eyes are on the notepad she has in her hands so she doesn’t realize Octavia is blatantly staring at her.

“So I —,” she stops mid-sentence when she finally does notice her. Her gaze averting from Bellamy’s to Octavia and then back again, “Uh…hi?”

“Clarke,” Bellamy starts, “This is my sister, Octavia.”

Octavia is outright examining her and Bellamy is pretty surprised to see Clarke holding her own. Chin propped up and shoulders relaxed. She seems just as interested in probing his sister as Octavia is with her.

After a minute or two passes, Octavia looks over her shoulder at Bellamy, “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, big brother.”

And then she’s grabbing the grocery bags from his hands and taking them to the kitchen while calling, “Not that I mind. She got you to buy pancake mix!”

Clarke’s eyes brighten at that, “You did?”

“I told you I would,” is all he says before nodding his head towards the notepad that was still in her hand, “What’s that?”

She turns it around so he could see. His mouth opens in awe, it’s a sketch – a very _good_ sketch – of the cover of _The_ _Odyssey_ he has back in his room. No wonder the girl was so stubborn to stick to her art – she was damn talented.

“It’s your picture.”

He laughs at that. He wasn’t serious when he had mentioned it as a repayment. Though he can’t say he minds.

Later that day, after Octavia grilled Clarke with her questions and then deemed her as a good fit for their group, she leaves and when Clarke excuses herself for a shower, Bellamy carefully rips out the drawing from the notepad and sticks it to the fridge’s door.

When Clarke sees it, she rolls her eyes but he can note the small affectionate smile she tries to hide and the pinkish hue in her cheeks.

It’s that night she takes up his offer to let her stay.

\---

A week and a half later Clarke comes strolling into the apartment with a new found confidence. It’s Bellamy’s day off and he had been wondering where she’d been since he woke to discover she was missing.

“I found a job,” she sounds giddy and excited as she plops down onto the couch beside him. He has a bowl of cereal in his hands and a spoon of _Cheerio’s_ paused right outside his mouth.

“You did?”

She nods, she’s wearing one of Octavia’s blouses, bright blue, and one of her dark pencil skirts. He tries helplessly not to look at her exposed legs as she shifts them under her body and hands him over a slip of paper that read _ArtSpace_ on top.

“You’re looking at their new art consultant,” she’s grinning and he can’t help but mimic her expression. “I can actually start paying rent soon.”

“Bout damn time,” he teases and she pushes his arm in retaliation. He’s secretly glad though that the first thing she thought of when she got a job was paying rent and not saving up for her own place. He was actually getting pretty used to her company.

His friends were too. After getting past the initial shock of the story of him bringing home a complete stranger, (“You brought home a stranger in a not one night stand kind of way?” Jasper had gasped where Octavia had shook her head before responding, “Nope. He only wanted to shelter her. That papa bear, Bell.”) Bellamy had grumbled something about needing new friends and Raven exclaimed that she needed to meet her.

He brings out a pair of wine glasses, “I think this calls for a celebration.”

Bellamy pours the red liquid into each their glasses and then holds up his own, “To you.”

She clinks his drink with hers, “And to you.”

His eyebrows furrow, “To me?”

Clarke gives him a look, “Without you I’d never would have gotten this job,” Bellamy can feel his face flushing before she looks down at her outfit, “And to Octavia because if I’d shown up in a pair of your clothes, I don’t think I would have gotten it either.”

He laughs and they drink.  Yeah, he could definitely get used to this.

\---

The whole gang is piled into his living room four nights later, they’re watching some movie that Monty picked out and in Bellamy’s opinion it has too much science but nobody’s complaining probably because it’s _Monty_. Miller seems more interested in Monty then the movie, Wick and Raven are softly trading insults with each other’s while simultaneously smiling, Octavia (who was in-between her boyfriend’s, Lincolns legs) and Jasper are whispering questions regarding the movie and Clarke actually seems attentive, shushing them whenever they get too loud. He can tell that Monty’s thankful for her in those moments.

When it ends, Raven is the first to speak,

“So how’s _ArtSpace_ going?”

Clarke leans back against the edge of the couch, her side lining up with Bellamy’s leg, he tries not to notice, “It’s nice,” she answers, “They’re actually interested in seeing some of my work.”

This catches his attention, “You didn’t tell me that.”

Clarke shrugs as if it’s not something she’s excited about but she has to be, _an art museum wants to see her art_ , “It doesn’t really mean anything. They see tons of work every day and they just pass them along.”

He nudges her leg with his foot, “They haven’t seen _your_ work.”

She finally looks up at him, a small appreciative smile on her lips that he returns. After he looks forward again he can see his sister watching him, eyebrows raised, but he chooses to ignore it. He can tell she’s questioning something and he really doesn’t want to hear it.

They order takeout and eat on the floor since his kitchen table isn’t big enough and he finds himself looking over at Clarke every now and then. When she catches him, he can practically feel his face flaming in embarrassment but she only smiles, soft and gentle and he doesn’t think he really cares what his sister and the others think about their relationship. And he knows that they think about it.

When they all leave and he’s washing the dishes, she approaches him with the corner of her lips turned down. It gains his attention and he stops what he’s doing but before he can ask her what’s wrong she’s already talking.

“You really think they’ll like my art?”

He thinks about her first drawing he saw, of his Odyssey cover and then the sketch she did of Octavia that his sister adored, and the one of the flowers his neighbor is growing outside her balcony, “They’ll love it, Clarke.”

She bites her lip and nods before bumping his hip with hers and helping with the rest of the plates.

\---

It’s a few days later when he comes home to see his den a mess. There is paper everywhere, the couch is shoved back against the wall, and there’s paint bottles on the floor along with color pencils. Clarke is on her knees, one pencil tucked behind her ear another in her hand and one more cradled between her teeth. She just looks over her shoulder when he closes the door behind him and gives him a nod of acknowledgment before going back to her task.

He watches her with mild amusement as he discards his jacket and throws it onto the coat rack. She’s humming softly to herself as she grabs one of her paint brushes. When she realizes he’s staring, she removes the pencil from her mouth and raises her brows at him.

“You’re making me nervous.”

He’s smirking as his arms cross over his chest, he thinks he sees her eyes flicker to his biceps with the motion, “Yeah?”

She rolls her eyes, “Yes, and I’d appreciate it if you left.”

“This is my living room.”

Clarke deliberately sticks her lower lip out, “I need the space and I can never work when someone’s watching me. Please, Bellamy. I’m kind of freaking out about this.”

He sighs, “Fine.”

He’s moving to his bedroom when she calls out a cheery, “Thanks!” and he can’t help but smile.

\---

A little after three weeks into their arrangement Clarke gets a call. He hands over the phone mouthing that it’s _ArtSpace_ and she takes it with shaking hands. He heads back to living room where they were watching a movie to give her some privacy.

Ten minutes pass when Clarke comes back into his line of vision, he looks up from the screen to see her eyes slightly wet and a frown in place.

Bellamy feels his heart sink as he slowly rises to his feet, “Clarke, I’m sorry, maybe —,”

She breaks out into a grin, “I’m totally kidding,” she claps her hands together, “They said they loved my work!”

He should probably tell her not to fucking joke like that because he thought she was about to end up in tears but he’s too happy to care about her little prank. Instead he stands, grabs her around the waist and spins her around, her laugh close to his ear and the hammering of his heart is all he can focus on.

“I told you,” he says once he sets her down.

She keeps her hands on his forearms, eyes bright as she looks up into his much darker ones, “You told me.”

It strikes him that he doesn’t want to let go, there have been a few hand brushes and friendly taps on shoulders or backs throughout the near month they’ve been living together but they’ve never gotten this close. This personal. This…intimate. But he knows he has to so with one more joyful smile, he drops his hands to his sides and she takes a step back.

“I think this calls for the good stuff,” he says as he starts towards the kitchen. Clarke, of course, following right behind him.

“Have you been holding out on me, Blake?” she asks, mocking hurt as he leans up on his toes to grab the wine bottle on the top shelf of his liquor cabinet.

She practically lunges for the wine once he has it in his hands. He just smirks as he holds it over his head and she jumps up to try to take it from him. _There’s really no point in trying_ , he thinks, but he knew she would.

“You should feel honored,” he tells her as he searches for the corks screw, “I’ve had this for almost a year and never thought to open it till now.”

“Well pop that sucker open already!”

He lets out a laugh at her enthusiasm and does what she says. In the process, Clarke already has two glasses set out for them and Bellamy takes that time to realize how easy this was for him. For them. Like they’ve known each other for years. He likes it.

He pours the wine into each of their glasses before sliding the bottle onto his counter. They both clink their glasses together, smiles in place, before taking a sip.

Clarke props herself up onto the kitchen table, her usual spot, legs swinging and glass hovering right below her lips. They remain silent, their gaze locked, and Bellamy finds himself wondering if this was a sort of game she was trying to play.

And if it was, Bellamy wasn’t one to lose.

\---

Clarke walks into his bedroom as if it’s her own. It can’t be any later than eight a.m. or he’d be up already. For a second he thinks he might be dreaming. That she wasn’t really wondering the edge of his bed. Hair tied up and sleep shorts on. It wouldn’t be the first time a dream had started like this but alas he isn’t. His eyes are practically drooping when she finds the light switch and flicks it on, broad grin in place, and now he can actually see what she’s holding. A chocolate cupcake with one lit candle settled on top of it.

“Happy birthday!” she beams and even though he _hates_ being awoken so damn early, he can’t help but smile back.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes before stretching. Using all his energy to pull himself up and lean against the headboard as she walks closer.

“Who told?” his voice is scratchy and low and she looks a little surprised.

She brushes it off quickly though as she takes a seat by his legs, “Octavia.”

 _Of course_ , he thinks, he should have known that. “Don’t tell me there’s some big surprise party later.”

Clarke looks a bit sheepish when she shrugs so it already gives it away that his sister had in fact planned a surprise party for him.

“Jesus,” he mutters and shakes his head, “Who plans a surprise party for a twenty sixth birthday?”

“Octavia does,” she says, extending out her hand to give him the cupcake to which he thanks her for, “And I think it’s sweet.”

Octavia and Clarke have been getting along even better than they had in the beginning. It’s only been three months since Clarke chose to stay but it’s like she’s been part of the group for much longer than that.

Bellamy makes a humming noise that sounds like he’s disagreeing but doesn’t carry on with voicing it, instead just bites into the cupcake, completely satisfied with the taste.

“This is awesome,” he notes, mouth filled with chocolate and she laughs.

“I’m glad,” she replies before stealing a piece, “But hasn’t anyone taught you that talking with your mouth full is impolite?”

He sticks his tongue out childishly which only causes crumbs to fall off his lips and onto his sheets. He knows he’ll have to clean it up if he doesn’t want any bugs to crawl inside his bed but Clarke is laughing again and he can’t find himself to focus on that.

\---

The party is being hosted at Miller’s house and much to Clarke’s pleading, he pretends he’s actually _surprised_ when he shows up. He notices that it’s their usual group of people, along with a couple of Bellamy’s coworkers, and he may actually enjoy this party.

“She told you, didn’t she?”

Bellamy glances down at his sister who slid up to his side without him noticing, she looks towards where he had been observing – staring really – to see Clarke dancing with Raven in the middle of Miller’s living room. Her white dress flowing above her knees and blonde hair cascading down her back whenever she laughed at Jasper’s poor attempt to break dance.

“She didn’t,” Bellamy says even though he knows he’s just as bad of a liar as Clarke.

Octavia gives him a disbelieving look, “Right.”

He sips his beer, wrapping his free arm around her shoulder, “Thank you for the party, O.”

She tucks herself into his side, “You deserve it, big brother,” she says and then after a second, she adds, “You deserve her.”

The words practically sink into every inch of his skin, making his heart race a little, “It’s not like that.”

“Bell,” she sounds like she’s about to talk to a child, “I know. _We all know_.”

He removes his arm, “She’s just a friend.”

Octavia scoffs, “Please. You’re so into her.”

Bellamy chances another glance at Clarke, she’s talking to one of his coworkers, Murphy, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from dancing.

He is _totally_ into her.

“It’s not going to happen,” he says, finality in his voice, “She’s staying with me for as long as she needs and then she’s going to go to some big, expensive art school and we’ll probably end up just seeing each other on Facebook or something.”

Octavia frowns, “First of all, nobody under the age of thirty uses Facebook and second,” she hits his arm and he almost yelps in surprise, “Why would you say that?”

“I’ve seen her art and the print outs of schools she’s thinking of applying,” he tells his sister, “I’m just the good guy that helped her out on the way there.”

His sister rolls her eyes at him, which wasn’t unusual, “I hate when you do this.”

“Do what?”

“ _This_ ,” she gestures at him, which doesn’t really help, “The way you think so lowly of yourself. I thought that was over.”

Truthfully, he did too. He hadn’t really felt this way since high school. When he got passed up for scholarships left and right and he noted that the girls he used to hook up with would never want more than a hook up. Never wanted to see him outside of his bedroom or the school locker room. Never wanted him to meet their parents.

“I’m just being realistic,” he tells her.

Over the time of living together, he learned a lot about her. How she grew up with a surgeon stoic mother and joyful engineer of a father. Both making good income and she would attend private schools whose semester tuition was more than Bellamy and Octavia’s tuition combined. She mostly dated the girls and guys who were children of her parent’s other rich friends.

He knew it was only a matter of time until she carried on with that lifestyle.

“You’re being Bellamy,” Octavia states, moving so that she was in front of him, “ _Old_ Bellamy.”

Having enough of the conversation, he tips his drink towards her, “Do you think you can save this lecture for when it’s not my birthday?”

She huffs, arms crossing over her chest with a pout before she nods, “Fine.”

They don’t bask in silence for long cause Clarke comes to pull on both their arms and _demand_ they dance with her.

\---

“Oh my —,” hiccup, “God!” Clarke grins, her hands holding tightly onto Bellamy’s arm as he tries to unlock the door to the apartment, “That was so much fun!”

For the past few months they’ve been living together, Bellamy and Clarke have drank in each other’s presence many times. At home. At parties. At bars but he’s never seen her _drunk_. Maybe a little tipsy but never this intoxicated where she actually tripped three times alone in the last ten minutes. Her hands are warm from where they wrap around his wrist as he practically has to drag her into the living room.

“Yeah, it was,” Bellamy agrees, setting her down onto the couch as she slips off her shoes, “Too bad you’re going to wake up with a major hangover.”

She frowns for a second before she brightens up again, “Doesn’t matter, it’ll be worth it.”

Bellamy chuckles at her words, “That’s good.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“I did,” he answers, taking his position beside her, “I especially liked it when you got Murphy to dance on Miller’s table with you.”

A fond smile appears on her lips as she recalls the memory, “Raven bet me thirty that I couldn’t.”

“I’m assuming she was pissed about losing.”

“ _Ohh_ yeah,” Clarke nods, a bit too enthusiastically. Then her legs were swinging upwards and settling into his lap, “But she paid up.”

He smirks, patting her bare ankle, “Sounds like a successful night.”

Bellamy watches as her face twists in thought. Her nose scrunched up and lips pursed. It was a pretty adorable sight.

“Not entirely.”

“Oh?”

Clarke shifts suddenly, legs now going under her body as she presses up onto her knees, “I wanted to get you something.”

She’s leaning against his shoulder now, breath warm against his neck, he’s trying _really_ hard not to notice the proximity.

He swallows, eyes casting towards hers, “What was it?”

“It was a watch. It was nice,” she’s pretty much whispering now, her mouth close to his ear, “But it was too expensive. I promise though, I’ll buy it. Soon.”

“Clarke…” he reaches out to take her hand in his, her head coming down to rest on his shoulder, “You don’t need to buy me a gift.”

“I do,” she says and he can pretty much _hear_ the pout in her voice, “You’ve been so nice to me. Letting me stay here.”

“You’re paying rent,” he points out.

“You gave me a chance,” her tone is quiet, soft, like she’s talking to herself, “A stranger. You believed in me.”

Her hand is still in his and Bellamy catches himself drawing little shapes against her skin with his thumb. If he could, he’d pause this moment for good amount of time.

“Still do,” he tells her and her eyes light up. Her mouth curls up into another smile and he’s pretty sure that’s his favorite thing about her.

The way she genuinely smiles at him. At his sister. At his – _their_ – friends. If he had her artistic ability, he was sure that he’d capture it on paper so he’d never forget. Not that he thinks he actually could.

Clarke squeezes his arm, the one she has her own arms wrapped around, “Thank you, Bellamy.”

“You’re welcome, Clarke.”

And just like that, barley a few minutes later she was sound asleep.

He carefully scoops her up into his arms and carries her into his bed. He tucks her in and presses a kiss to her forehead. He hopes he’s not overstepping any boundaries but he can’t really find himself to care that much.

He shuts the light off before grabbing a pillow and blanket for the couch.

\---

Bellamy’s in the kitchen, in the middle of making another batch of pancakes when Clarke walks in.

“You know you could have slept with me, right?”

The words cause him to choke on _nothing_ – he stands there coughing for a few seconds while he completely abandons his task to turn his attention to her. She’s standing in the doorway, last night’s make up caked under her eyes, and hair in disarray. 

Once he gets ahold of himself and his words, he says, “Excuse me?”

Clarke rolls her eyes, stepping forward to turn off the stove, “You didn’t have to sleep on the couch. You could have left _me_ on the couch but you didn’t. So instead you should have just shared the bed.”

“I didn’t — I wasn’t…”

She’s right in front of him now, “You didn’t want me to get the wrong idea?” at that he nods, dumbly. Then she adds, “I wouldn’t have. We’re adults, Bellamy.”

“I know that.” He grumbles back but he’s not sure he means it because whenever she’s around he starts to feel like the hormonal teenager he once used to be.

“Good,” she says, hopping up onto the counter, “Then it’s settled. We can both sleep in your bed?”

Bellamy busies himself with turning the stove back on, shrugging as if his thoughts weren’t going haywire, “Yeah, sure.”

She grins before eyeing the breakfast he was currently making, “Aren’t you glad that I came into your life and brought such happiness into your world.”

Bellamy glances at her, narrowing his eyes, “I’ve had pancakes before.”

She shrugs, “Yeah, well, you’re still glad I’m in your life.”

He laughs but doesn’t disagree. He’s more than glad.

Once they have breakfast, Clarke practically devouring hers after pouring more than half the bottle of maple syrup on her pancakes, they’re settled into their usual spot on the couch. Her legs propped on his lap once more and he wonders if she remembers what she told him last night. About the gift. About how grateful she was that he believed in her.

He finds himself looking over at her throughout the movie they’re watching. Seeing her scrunch up her nose when one of the actors spews out a dumb line or the way she throws back her head when she laughs. Bellamy couldn’t even tell you the name of the film they were watching because he was so distracted by her.

He’s pathetic.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” he asks, getting up to take their bowls of popcorn back to the kitchen for a refill. He really didn’t know how she so easily changed his diet.

“I actually have a date,” she says and now he’s surprised all over again by the words that come from her mouth. She’s not looking at him when he returns, her eyes on the screen and he feels even _more_ pathetic.

He pulls himself together quickly though, clearing his throat subtly, “Oh – uh – with who?”

“Her names Lexa,” she tells him once he’s seated again, “I met her at ArtSpace.”

Bellamy nods, mostly to himself, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth, “That’s cool.”

“Yeah,” she hums her agreement, “I guess.”

He tries not to think about the date too much when several hours later she’s dressed in a pair of black heels and a matching little dress. He reminds himself that just because he’s pitifully pining over the woman doesn’t mean she’s going to stay single forever while he does so.

Instead of acting mopey, like he’s feeling, he smiles and tells her to have a good time. She kisses him on the cheek before she leaves and he doesn’t realize she left an imprint of her lips from her red lipstick until Raven points it out later that night.

\---

After that, Bellamy does what any normal person would do when it came to his situation which was to try to ignore his obvious feelings. Even though he’s been doing that for the last few weeks. Now though he was taking it to a whole new level. There was no more late night chats on his couch with their legs or hands brushing, he started to go out a little more often without Clarke, and he definitely, _definitely_ didn’t get to close to her body when they slept in his bed.

He hadn’t realized he was pulling back so obviously until a week later he gets a phone call from a very exasperated Octavia.  

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Well hello to you too, darling sister of mine,” Bellamy replies, shifting his phone between his ear and shoulder blade as he reorganized the notes he has on his desk, “How are you today?”

Octavia makes an annoyed huff on the other line, “Why are you being so cold to Clarke?”

He pauses, surprised, “I’m not being cold to Clarke.”

“Really?” she challenges, “Because she was here before and she looked just about ready to cry. She thinks she did something wrong.”

There’s a pang in his chest at that, he didn’t mean to give her that idea, “O…”

“Don’t worry I assured her that you’re just an idiot,” she says, cutting him off from the sentence he wasn’t even sure how to complete.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “It’s just…she’s _dating_. Which I know – shocker – Clarke, an incredibly talented, beautiful person is actually _dating_ someone now, I just thought when she did I’d get over my…crush by then.”

He almost cringes at that. _Crush_. What was he; fifteen?

“Big brother you’re so beyond crush it’s getting a little sad,” she says but he already knows that. “It’s not like it’s serious. I would know. She’d tell me.”

“What do you want me to do, O?”

“I want you to tell her how you feel,” she says and before he can interrupt, she adds, “And don’t give me that bullshit of you saying that you’re not going to give her the life she wants. The one she deserves if she gets stuck with you but let me tell you something. She’s _happy_. She told me that she never thought she’d be able to wake up and feel the way she’s feeling now. After her friend and father passed, after her mother cut her off, after _living on the streets_ , she finally sees life the way she used to. That’s because of _you_.”

Octavia was good at that sort of emotional speeches. The kind that made you sit there and revaluate your attitude, your feelings you had. Which he currently was doing now. He’s left silent from his sister’s words as he clutches the phone tightly in his hand and takes a few deep breaths.

“What are you going to do, Bell?” she asks after a while.

“I’m…,” he blow out another breath, “Not sure.”

\---

When he returns to the apartment, head still clogged with Octavia’s words and his own thoughts, he almost doesn’t see Clarke’s petite form on the couch. The television is off and instead she has a sketchpad in her lap. She looks up when he closes the door and he throws his suit jacket onto the coat rack. After hanging up the phone with his sister, he thought about what he would say, what he would do when he got home but now his whole mind went blank as Clarke looked over at him. Her eyes slightly wide, concerned, her mouth slight open as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t think of the right thing.

He knew the feeling.

“Hey,” he finally says, quiet and a little hoarse.

“Hi,” she replies, setting her notebook and pen down, “How was work?”

“Fine,” he answers, “How about you?”

“Fine,” she repeats and he cracks a small smile. She does the same before she’s getting up from her position. Walking towards him like he was a wild animal, not sure if he’d attack. “What’s going on?”

He feigns innocence, eyebrows furrowing and because he’s a coward, he says, “What do you mean?”

Clarke tilts her head to the side, obviously not having any of it, “Things have been…weird. Really weird. Is it something I did? Have I over stayed my welcome because I can go if—”

“No!” he practically shouts before she can finish, “It’s not you, Clarke. It’s me. I’m being an idiot.”

Clarke purses her lips, “That’s what Octavia said.”

“Yeah, well…she’s right.”

She takes another step closer, “Talk to me, Bellamy. I thought we were friends.”

He’s not sure how she doesn’t understand. Yeah, he had been pretty asshole-like for the past week but he was sure he was fairly obvious before that.

“It’s nothing,” he finally says as he passes by her. They’re _friends_. She has shown no signs of wanting him the way he wants her and he wasn’t about to ruin a stable relationship.

“You’re lying,” she calls out, “Why?”

“I’m not lying.”

He pivots back around to face her while she plants her hands on her hips.

“Yes, you are,” Clarke’s eyes grow thinner, confused, “Something is bothering you and you’re just keeping it to yourself.”

He starts to loosen his tie, shaking his head, this wasn’t how he thought this conversation would go. He _should_ tell her, he knows that but he really just can’t. If he told her and she didn’t feel the same and decided it would be better to move out, go to the school she’s been dreaming about, find someone like her to be with while he only kept updated on her life through his sister, he’d be crushed. A friendship was better than nothing.

“Maybe I prefer to keep things to myself,” he argues back, ditching his tie and throwing it to the couch, “I don’t need to tell you everything, Clarke.”

For a second she looks hurt and he pretty much hates himself before her expression transforms and there’s a fire behind her eyes. She’s angry. He doesn’t blame her.

“You don’t,” she agrees, “But I’m sorry that I _care_ about you.”

“Look, I just don’t feel like talking.”

“It can help.”

“Clarke.”

“Bellamy.”

He didn’t realize that they drew closer with the heated exchange and they’re barley an inch apart now.

“I’m done talking about this,” he tells her and is about to turn away when she pulls on his hand, hard and quick.

“Well I’m not.”

He’s practically hovering her now, his chest rising and falling against hers, “I. Don’t. Want. To. Talk.”

She holds her ground, not releasing him just yet, “Fine. Then tell me what you want to do.”

Bellamy takes his arm away from her and when she opens her mouth to argue, he grabs her face between his hands and presses his lips against hers. The kiss is warm and heavy and for a couple excruciating seconds, she’s motionless against him before suddenly he feels the pressure against his lips. Her hand moves up to the nape of his neck and she sighs. She fucking _sighs_. Bellamy makes a low grunting sound, his mind too hazed to actually _think_ about what was happening.

His tongue slips between her parted lips and Clarke holds him even closer. He circles his arms around her waist and he’s pretty sure he’s never felt anything like this before.

Bellamy pulls away when breathing becomes an issue but he keeps his forehead against hers, watching as her eyes slowly flutter open. Her hand still against the back of his neck and the other resting on his bicep.

“You could have told me that what was what you wanted to do a long time ago,” she says and she sounds a little breathless. He tries not to feel smug.

“I thought I’d be wasting my time,” his breath ghosts over her, making her bangs fall against her eyes.

She ducks her head, smiling, “Octavia _was_ right. You really are an idiot.”

He props her chin up with his index finger and thumb, she’s still smiling when he says, “Well it’s not like you were showing me any signs.”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Please. If I wasn’t so obvious how come everyone else knew? I mean even _Lexa_ knew and I went out with her three times.”

“Really?” Bellamy raises his brows, “What she say?”

“She said; you sure talk about that boy a lot, are you wishing you were here with him instead?” Clarke’s thumb traces his jaw and he leans into the touch, “She seemed pissed but I _did_. I was wishing I was with you.”

“So really, we’re _both_ idiots,” he says when her hand caresses his cheek now.

“Oh definitely,” she agrees with a nod, “I think we have a few months of this to catch up on.”

Then her lips are against his again and yeah, he definitely feels like an imbecilic for not telling her sooner but he can’t exactly be annoyed with the fact that they were going to use this time to ‘catch up’.

\---

“I fucking told you!” Octavia shouts when she and the rest of their group barge in for the movie night. They catch Clarke and Bellamy in the middle of a very frenzied make out session. “I told you! Didn’t I tell you?”

Clarke unstraddles him much to Bellamy’s dismay and laughs. Bellamy continues lying flat on his back on the couch, his shirt ridden up to his chest, and glares at the ceiling.

Lincoln puts an arm around Octavia who looks completely giddy along with Jasper and Monty. Raven and Wick just seem self-satisfied. As if they have something to do with it. And Miller, well Miller just looks ready to watch the movie.

He does grumble ‘fucking finally’ when he shoves Bellamy’s legs down so he could sit. Clarke plants herself onto Bellamy’s lap so he doesn’t feel that bummed for long at the interruption.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he waves a dismissive hand, “We’re together. It’s beautiful. We know.”

“Man, I love to be right,” Octavia chirps as she pats both their heads as if they’re children, “Thank you for proving me right.”

“And thanks for choosing this week to get together,” Wick says, “We won the bet.”

“You bet on us?” Clarke questions, incredulous.

Well, that explains the smugness in their smiles, Bellamy thinks.

“They’re idiots, Clarke. What do you expect?” Jasper asks as he falls to his seat on the floor.

“You’re just pissed because you were four days off,” Raven chimes in.

Clarke looks around the room then, a small smile pulling on her lips, “Well, since you’re all here. I have some pretty great news to share.”

“Oh my God,” Octavia practically screeches, “Are you pregnant? Did he propose?” she shoots her brother a look, “Why wouldn’t you tell me! I could have helped you pick out the ring.”

Bellamy rolls his eyes, “Calm down, O. She’s not pregnant and I did not propose.”

“Not yet anyways,” he hears his sister mutter and Raven cackles.

If Clarke hears her, she gives nothing away, “No actually, my news is that my boss at ArtSpace has a few friends on Colombia’s board and I got into their Arts program.”

“That’s awesome!” Monty congratulates quickly, making her beam up at him. The rest are quick to follow and Bellamy watches with his own smile as she receives their praises with a red face.

“You guys should be celebrating,” Jasper says afterwards.

“We were _trying_ ,” Bellamy mumbles, still bitter with the disruption. Clarke playfully nudges his arm with her elbow.

“Colombia,” Octavia repeats happily, “That’s what? Like a twenty minute commute?”

“About right,” Clarke nods as Bellamy draws shapes with his fingers on her lower back.

He catches his sister’s knowing smile and opts to ignore it. Trying to get over his past insecurities of Clarke attending a school far away and forgetting about him.

“I’m super proud,” Octavia says after, reaching over to squeeze Clarke’s knee.

Clarke grins, shifting back against Bellamy’s chest, “Couldn’t have done it without your brother,” she noses at Bellamy’s neck eliciting gagging sounds from the rest. She pulls back once Jasper sets on the TV and glances at Octavia, “Oh and your skirt.”

Octavia smirks, “Oh yeah, it was _definitely_ the skirt.”

\---

“So I talked to my mom,” Clarke says in a way of greeting when she walks into their bedroom (yes, it was _their_ bedroom now) and Bellamy watches as she wraps the duvet around her body once she lays down, “Like _really_ talked to her.”

Clarke and her mother Abby barley kept in contact from what Bellamy was aware of through the months they’ve lived together. At one point, her mom begged her to come home but Clarke wouldn’t have any of it until Abby trusted her enough to make her own decisions. He’s pretty sure it’s been at least three weeks since Clarke mentioned her before now.

He sits up, back against the headboard, “What happened?”

“Well I told her about you,” she inclines her head towards him, the words take him by surprise. Usually their conversations were brisk and firm. Never lasting over a few minutes and Clarke has never revealed anything about her personal life unless regarding her good health and mentioning a new job. Once. She never even told her mom the name of the museum. “Said I met someone who believed in me. Have new friends. Enjoying life.”

Bellamy shifts towards her, “And?”

“And, she asked about school and I told her about Colombia,” she continues, playing with the hem of the bedsheet, “She wants to meet you.”

His eyes widen at the information, “Wait – really?”

Clarke merely shrugs, barley even noticing that she shocked the hell out of him with those simple words, “Yeah, apparently by the way I spoke about you, you sounded important.”

Bellamy really, genuinely tries not to flush. He was still getting used to being seen in the romantic kind of light when it came to Clarke.

“So?” He prompts. 

She sucks in a breath and finally looks at him, “I told her that if you were okay with that then you could meet.”

He raises a brow, “Are you okay with it?”

Clarke nods, “I think so. I mean she’s my _mom_ ,” she curls her body into his side, “I miss her and as long as she doesn’t try the whole, I need you to attend here and become this, I think it might go well.”

Bellamy presses a kiss to the top of her head, her hair smelling of coconut, “Me too.”

\---

It does, in fact, go well. He’s actually pretty surprised himself. Abby seemed even more nervous than both Bellamy and Clarke combined.

A week after their conversation, they met up with her mother in a fancy restaurant that he’d normally never think of attending. She stood when they walked in and shook Bellamy’s hand and awkwardly hugged her daughter.

It was a tense first ten minutes, mostly just uncomfortable small talk and the waiter’s voice filling up their time before Clarke jumped in about ArtSpace. How it was her new job, how she loved it, and how no matter what Abby said she was going to stick with it.

Abby seemed sincerely happy with that. She extended her hand to place on top of Clarke’s. Telling her that she was proud and that she was sorry for what had happened almost five months ago. It was then that Clarke finally saw this as a moment of change. She squeezed her mother’s fingers before answering all her questions.

When it was time to leave, after the three of them went for the check until Abby insisted that she got it, Clarke hailed a cab while Abby stood by Bellamy’s side. A smile that resembled her daughters on her face as she turned to him.

“You make her happy,” she stated and Bellamy blinked a couple times, his words getting stuck in his mind, “Truly happy. It’s nice and I want to thank you.”

“Uh – yeah, it’s no problem,” he cleared his throat, “She makes me happy too.”

Her smile stretched and then Clarke was calling her over, holding the taxi’s door open. The pair hugged again, this time it was a lot less strained, and Clarke stood there on the curb until the cab was out of sight. She seemed content the whole way back to the apartment.

“So that really went well, right?” Clarke had said once they stepped through the threshold, “I didn’t just imagine that or hallucinate anything?”

Bellamy laughed, “It went very well.”

Then she was beaming and he was completely and totally lost in her in that moment just like he always was when she smiled at him like that.

“Thank you,” she said and before he could respond she was throwing her arms around him and planting her lips on his.

\---

“You know we’re pretty damn cute,” Bellamy says one day, Clarke positioned in between his legs as they lay against the couch. He’s rereading The Iliad and she’s sketching the accessories decorating their living room.

Her head turns towards him, quirking an amused eyebrow, “What?”

Bellamy shrugs a shoulder, folding his finger into his book to keep his place, “Every single person says it,” he continues, referring to their group of friends, “I’m just agreeing.”

“At the most random time.”

“Well better late than never.”

She rolls her eyes, affectionate, then she’s turning back to her work, “Dork.”

“Come on, Clarke,” he rests his chin onto her head, “Don’t _you_ agree? We have a great story.”

“Oh yeah, the perfect fairytale,” Clarke says, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Let’s tell our future kids how daddy picked up a random homeless woman and brought her home.”

He tries to calm his racing heart at the mention of their ‘future kids’ when he says, “Or how daddy found a woman on the streets whose tough as fucking nails.”

Her pencil freezes against the paper and Bellamy can’t exactly see her expression since her head is tilted towards her art and it’s actually _killing_ him.

“You really are a dork.” She finally says and then suddenly she’s rotating in his arms, eyes looking a bit glassy, “I love you.”

Bellamy’s heart warms as he smiles, ducking his head to kiss her, “I love you too.”

\---

It’s her day. The day Clarke’s art work gets put up in _ArtSpace_ and everyone whose friends with her friends know all about it. Octavia and Raven advertised her showcase on twitter for weeks and Lincoln and Monty had even made a facebook page for the museum to deliberately post about Clarke. Of course they had to add a few details about other artists as well.

Bellamy had took to the old fashioned way and mentioned it every time he could that his artist of a girlfriend was having her work shown and the museum and that they should stop by. He already knew his barista, paper guy, and a few of his coworkers would be making their appearance at her showcase.

Clarke flushed at their enthusiasm but Bellamy could tell she appreciated it. 

“I’m so nervous,” she says as she puts on her new earrings, she was wearing in a long black dress that had a slit going up mid-thigh, her hair was curled, and she looked beautiful. “What if everyone just walks by?”

Bellamy watches her, amused, as she frowns into the mirror. She makes eye contact with him through the reflection and her frown only depends.

“This isn’t funny,” she tells him, turning towards him, “You’re supposed to be comforting me.”

He fixes his tie before wrapping his arms around her, “You’re crazy.”

She huffs, “Thanks. You’re the sweetest.”

In return he grins and kisses her hair, “It’s going to be great. Everyone is going to love your work and those who don’t are idiots.”

Clarke’s arms come up to wrap around his back, “Much better.”

He tips her chin back so he can kiss her and he feels her sigh against him and knows she’s feeling less tense.

“Let’s head out.”

She grabs her clutch before departing their bedroom, “If this ends badly, you have to buy me ice cream.”

“It won’t.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s right. He’s been impressed with Clarke’s art since the sketch she did of his book cover of _The Odyssey_. He smiles to himself when he recalls the memory of her giving to him as a sort of “payment” for letting her sleep on his couch. It was hard to believe that moment was over a year ago.

He looks for in the crowd that was surrounding her paintings. There’s a portrait of himself hung up and even though she asked his permission first it still felt odd seeing a group of people standing in front of it and discussing.

Bellamy catches sight of her blonde waves before focusing on her laugh. She’s too far for him to actually hear it but the sigh makes him smile nonetheless.

“So big brother,” he hears before Octavia claps a hand over his shoulder, “How does it feel to be a trophy wife?”

“Feels pretty good.”

Octavia smirks, using her other hand to lift the champagne glass to her mouth, “Oh, I bet it does.”

Raven, Miller, Wick, Monty, Jasper, and Lincoln join them. Raving talking how happy she is for Clarke as they each glance in Clarke’s direction as she mingled with the customers.

Octavia was the first to notice Abby when she walked in. Her hair down, her eyes bright, and wearing a white dress. She was with a man with dark hair and a beard who was also sharply dressed.

“You look beautiful,” Octavia says, a bit loudly since Abby was still a few feet away and probably hadn’t even noticed them yet.

Abby looks surprised at the compliment, looking down before smiling at Octavia, “Thank you. As do you,” she makes her way towards them, the man following close behind, “As do all of you.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Raven says, finishing off her glass.

Abby looks amused before she introduces the man who was standing awkwardly beside her, “Everyone this is Marcus. Marcus Kane. Marcus, these are Clarke’s friends and her boyfriend Bellamy.”

Bellamy stretches his hand out as Marcus tells him he’s heard a lot about him from Abby. Promising it was all good things.

After a few minutes of small talk, Abby excuses herself to congratulate Clarke and Bellamy watches as Clarke happily and eagerly hugs her mother. He smiles into his champagne glass.

It’s about two hours later when things are wound down and there’s only a few people other than the staff and the gang still hanging about in the museum.

“That was exhausting,” Clarke says, lounging her head onto his shoulder as they look at his favorite piece. The only one that was left and he was glad because he wanted to buy it himself.

He tries not think about the stranger who now how his face up on their wall.

This painting was one she worked on for months. She titled it “rain” and it was perfect.

“I’ll bet,” he replies, rubbing her arm, “You did great.”

She hums something that sounds like a thank you and he presses his lips to her forehead.

“I’m glad this one wasn’t sold,” she says, repeating the words he had just previously thought. “I want to hang it up over the fireplace.”

She presses herself against him, smiling his favorite smile.

“I wanted that too.”

“Oh, really,” she says against his neck, “Is that what you wanted?”

“I did,” he tells her and then adds, “I also wanted something else.”

She looks up at him again, “And what’s that?”

He pulls away from her and before she can even reopen her mouth to speak, he’s down on one knee and reaching for the little black box in his pocket. Clarke’s eyes go wide and her hands cover her mouth. Bellamy’s pretty sure he’s shaking.

Their friends, her mom, and Marcus surround her and if she notices, she doesn’t show it. Bellamy opens the box to reveal the ring he’d gotten her. Octavia had helped him out and it was surely beautiful.

“I wanted to ask you if you want to be my wife?”

Tears prick her stunning blue eyes as she slowly pulls her hands away from her face. His heart is hammering as she nods her head. Slow but definite.

“That’s something you should already know,” her eyes are wet as she nods her head, “Of course I do.”

Before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, she’s pulling him up and jumping into his arms. He laughs and wraps his arms around her tightly. He feels the dampness of her tears against his collar and when she pulls her head slightly away to kiss him, he notices her bright smile. He barely registers the applause happening around them as he embraces her.

“Maybe I should give you the ring,” he says once they move apart.

Clarke gives him her hand and he slips the ring onto her finger.

“I love it,” she tells him, admiring it, “I love you.”

“Oh good,” he teases, bringing her close again, “I was wondering.”

Her scrunches her nose up at him, beaming.

“Finally!” Octavia cheers as she drapes her arms over both their shoulders, “I’ve been waiting _months_.”

“I literally told you I was going to propose two weeks ago,” Bellamy says.

She shakes her head as if he’s a lost cause, “I’d been waiting long before that, big brother.”

“We all were,” Raven chimes in, smirking as she walks over to grab Clarke’s hand and examine the new ring.

Bellamy catches Abby’s eyes from over her daughter’s head and she’s smiling and her eyes are brimmed with tears as she mouths ‘ _I told you she’d say yes_.’ He returns the smile. When he had asked for Abby’s permission he was a nervous wreck. He didn’t know how she’d react. Maybe she’d think they were too young? Not exactly right for each other? Maybe she’s been waiting all this time for Clarke to come back to her? But instead, she hugged him and said she was more than glad to welcome him into the family. It was a relief to say the least.

He watches as everyone follows in Raven’s lead, Clarke’s hand rotating from person to person each offering their words of appreciation and congratulating them.

Jasper was already talking about his plan to ask his coworker Maya as his date to their wedding, Raven was snapping pictures, Lincoln seemed to have a glint in his eye that Bellamy read as him being ready to be the next to propose, and Abby held tight to Clarke as she spoke to their friends.

The group decide to celebrate at the apartment, Monty and Miller picked up champagne on their way and Raven took to ordering pizza. It was a good mix, both he and Clarke agreed and they drank till they were all buzzed.

\---

“May twelfth,” Clarke says as she comes into the kitchen.

Bellamy looks up from the paper he was reading as she kisses his head before taking a seat beside him. When she doesn’t elaborate, he raises his eyebrows, “What about it?”

“That’s the date,” she states, mouth now slightly full with blueberry muffin, “You know – for our wedding.”

It’s been five weeks since the proposal. Five very blissful weeks. Clarke has taken a liking to referring to Bellamy as her fiancé as much as he does with her. He had screenshotted the lengthy paragraph that she put up on Instagram that was about her love for him with an attached picture from her the art gallery, and looks at it every so often.    

“That’s a month from now,” is all he says, noting the calendar on his phone.

“Too soon?” she asks, licking the last of the muffin off her thumb.

Bellamy reaches across to grab her hand, hoisting her up and pulling her into his lap. “For you to be my wife? Absolutely not.”

“Dork,” she says, affectionate, before she’s gripping his face between her hands and kissing him. The taste of blueberry mixed with coffee never felt so good.

“You love it.”

She doesn’t disagree, just tugs him for another kiss before insisting they get down to business.

\---

Everyone gets involved with planning the wedding, not that he’s surprised with their friend group and all. It at least takes a lot of pressure off the two of them. They want to keep it simple and small. Just their friends and Clarke’s mom. They decide they want it to be outdoors, DJ instead of a band, and pink tulips as centerpieces.

Jasper does work up the courage to ask Maya to their wedding and Clarke takes such a liking to the girl, she asks her to be one of her bridesmaids along with Octavia and Raven.

Bellamy’s there when Clarke asks her mother to walk her down the aisle and to be her maid of honor. He’s also there when she takes an interest to a house down the block from their apartment.

They’re on their usual Saturday run when she stops suddenly in front of a sign that reads OPEN HOUSE in red blocky letters. The house is small. Probably two levels. White with a wraparound porch and a red door. It’s cute. He watches as she tilts her head to examine it and he smiles to himself because he knows what she’s thinking. He’s thinking it too.

_This could be ours._

“It’s nice,” she comments, looking over her shoulder at him. “I bet they’re very suburban people.”

Bellamy smirks, “Do you want to check it out?”

Clarke chews at her lip before looking down at her attire, “Maybe another time. I’m all sweaty and gross.”

“Yeah and you smell too.”

She rolls her eyes, smacking him in the chest with the back of her hand, “Whatever. I’ll race you to the apartment.”

\---

The wedding comes quickly and Bellamy knows that practically everyone gets nervous on their wedding day. Brides. Grooms. Anyone involved. Which is why he thinks he’s abnormal when he doesn’t feel an ounce of anxiety. He’s just _excited_. Practically bouncing on the heels of his feet when the ceremony begins. Lincoln grins at him, amused as the bridesmaids and groomsmen make their way down the aisle. His heartbeat picks up when everyone stands for Clarke. She’s in a simple white dress that hugs her perfectly and a vail draped over her head. Abby holds her tightly, tears in her eyes as she walks her towards him.

Bellamy watches as Clarke hugs her mother close when they reach the end and Abby kisses her head before smiling in his direction and taking her spot on Clarke’s side.

He reaches his hand out to grasp hers and slowly lifts the vail away from her face. His favorite smile greeting him.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi,” he returns, “You look beautiful.”

“As do you.”

They probably look like school kids grinning at each other so absentmindedly.

Bellamy has no problem staring at Clarke the entire time the Minister speaks. It’s something he’s used to by now.

His fingers grip hers as the Minister asks Bellamy to be the first to say his vows.

“Clarke,” he begins and if it’s possible her smile stretches, “I promise to always believe in you. To comfort you. To be your backup when you need it. I promise to be your best friend. The man you can depend on for anything and everything. _You_ are everything. Today and long before today, I vow to always love you.”

There’s no mistaking the tears that fill her eyes as she takes a breath before speaking, “My life changed for the better the day we met. Today I promise to always be there for you. To be your ally in any situation. I will always respect and adore you. I also promise to _try_ to never get bored of your stories about mythology,” he grins at that and he hears their guest’s chuckle, “And most importantly, I vow to love you forever, Bellamy Blake.”

Bellamy heaves a sigh of relief when the Minister says, “You may now kiss the bride.”

Pulling her in close and capturing her lips with his. Their friends erupt with cheers and howls as Clarke and Bellamy pull themselves apart to head down the aisle once more, this time as husband and wife. He can’t exactly contain himself so he kisses her again before they even reach the end.

“Who would have thought,” she says, softly, once they’re in the limo on the way to the reception.

“Who would have thought what?” he asks, a bit preoccupied with kissing her neck.

Clarke runs a hand through her hair, “That I’d get my happy ending.”

He pulls back slightly, to tease, “Now who’s the dork?”

She grins, “You love it.”

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote like the last few sections in an hour but I think I originally started this about six years ago. But wow: SO. MUCH. FLUFF.
> 
> I think I’m incapable of writing anything else tbh. Hope you all enjoyed!


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